Make Me Up
by OokamiHybrid
Summary: Erica and Lydia have a moment. Because Lydia is the only one who can still see Erica for what she is.


Make Me Up

"What's that?" Erica reclines lazily on Lydia's bed, watching the other girl with half-lidded eyes. Ever since the whole..._trying to kill you_ incident had blown over, they'd found themselves – not friends. More than friends. Her lips, dark red, pull to the side in a coy smirk. _Way_ more than friends. "What did you buy." Her voice comes out as a purr, thinking of the creamy pink lace Lydia's last shopping spree had delivered.

"This isn't for me. It's for you." Lydia drops the bag onto a chair, strutting across the room to fiddle at her makeup table.

"For me?" There's a note of hesitation in Erica's voice as she sits a bit straighter, watching Lydia with suspicious eyes.

"You told me you learned how to do your makeup by watching youtube videos." Lydia reminds, and her cheeks are flushed in something that would be called humility on anyone else. "And you buy your stuff from Walmart. I wanted to do something nice." And wow...nice. Erica knows the names on those bags – way, way out of her price range – and she can't believe for a second that any of _this_ is for her.

Going to the movies, and dinner, and rolling around for hours in Lydia's bed after stripping the other girls lingerie off is – that's one thing. Doing this...gift buying and. No one's ever done that for her before. No one has ever _listened_ to Erica, really _listened_ to her, and understood what she said. It's...

She sits up further, watching Lydia with wide eyes. The strawberry blond cocks her head, gesturing for Erica to move over to the table. "Come here. I won't bite. Unless you ask me to." Her pink-glossed lips pull into a smile, sweeter than the one she gives everyone else. Erica can't refuse that smile so she slips into the little chair in front of the vanity, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. "I'm not going to hurt you, you know." Lydia points out.

Erica shrugs and tilts her head back against her girlfriends stomach, eyes falling shut when Lydia begins to gently wipe her dark makeup off. It's the look she's been wearing since Derek gave her the bite two years ago, and it's always worked. _It's always given her a confidence she never had before, made her seem unapproachable which is good because people...people are more terrifying than Kanimas and werewolves, with their too-human emotions and their __**judgement**_.

When Erica's face is cleaned off, Lydia fetches the bag. She pulls out expensive fox-fur makeup brushes, and a small container of powdered primer that costs more than Erica's weekly groceries. That gets brushed on first – smooth, familiar strokes, all around her face. Her complexion has evened out since the bite, but it feels nice to have her skin gently massaged, with hands that know what they're doing. She lets Lydia brush it over her eyelids, her nose. It smells sweet, almost. Nice.

She's patient, as eyeliner and blush and mascara and lipgloss are applied. She's downright happy when Lydia begins to brush her hair, gradually twisting it up into a high, messy ponytail. She keeps her eyes closed, content to let Lydia work her over.

Lydia is flawless – Erica wonders if she can be too.

The end result is...stunning. In a way that Erica's never been, not even wrapped up in leather and low cut corsets. She's still wearing the clothes, but they feel weird on her own. She looks young, fresh. Innocent. The way she was befor she was turned into a werewolf. She looks like...she looks like how she feels on the inside, and her eyes fill with tears because Lydia? Lydia is the only person who has ever seen it. Who has seen her like this.

Who _wants_ her like this, judging by the deep, heady scent of arousal.

She spins on the bench to carefully press her face into Lydia's stomach, mindful of the freshly done makeup. She wraps her arms around the other girls waist and just hugs, holding her as tight as she can without hurting her. "Thank you." She breathes out against silk, blinking away tears. "I..."

Hands curl into her hair, manicured and perfect, dragging gently along her scalp. "It's alright." Lydia replies. And like that, Erica knows that it's true – it's okay. Right now at least.

They'll deal with later when it comes.


End file.
